The Last Temptation of Lexie Grey
by Foibles and Fables
Summary: Alternate title: The Dublin Mudslide Incident. A frantic Lexie decides to start on a diet, making Mark miserable in the process. In the end, it's up to him to set things right. Takes place between 5.20 and 5.22.


**This was written for author CitronPresse as a part of the LiveJournal alphabet fic prompt meme. The prompt was "T is for Temptation." I think I took the prompt in a weird direction. This takes place sometime between 5.20 and 5.22. Also, let's just ignore Lexie's egg allergy for a few minutes, okay? **

**Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.**

If he had been able to see it coming, he might have taken some preventative measures. Like taking all of the mirrors off the walls of his hotel room, or something that was equally tedious but would avert the tragedy (and therefore be worth it). But, Mark Sloan couldn't see the future. He didn't have the chance to do anything.

It proved to be his downfall.

It all started early one morning before he and Lexie left for the hospital. He was in the bathroom, freshly showered, shaving. Life had been moving along easily for the past week or so, as smoothly as the razor was gliding over his face. He was basically done fighting with Derek (for the latest conflict at least – those issues were relatively easy to resolve). He managed to survive meeting Lexie's father and the awkward-but-still-nice dinner. Everyone had come to accept them as a couple. They were happy, healthy, and free from troubles.

There simply had to be a shakeup soon. After all, it seemed that nothing ever went this nicely for Mark Sloan; everything eventually came back to bite him in the ass. He refused to acknowledge this fact for a while, trying to push the inevitable farther and farther into the future with a very long stick.

He couldn't hold it off for much longer, though. He wasn't ready for it to come that morning.

He made another swipe with his razor, muscle memory making sure that he didn't cut himself. Lexie, still in her pajamas, stood behind him, straight, gazing at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Furrowing her brow and scrutinizing her appearance, she slowly spun around twice. She stopped with her back to the door, head twisted to look over her shoulder, all the while keeping her eyes locked on her reflection.

Finally, she spoke, voice tentative and tiny. "Mark?"

His eyes flickered to where she was reflected in his own mirror. "Yeah?" He pressed the razor to his skin again.

Lexie pouted thoughtfully, visibly trying to suppress dread. "Am I fat?"

A sudden slip. The blade nicked Mark's skin, and he swore under his breath and dropped it. Quickly, he pressed a towel to the spot that was bleeding.

"Are you kidding me? No way," he told her after a moment of regaining cool composure. It was the truth. She looked normal, healthy, the same as she ever had. Besides, even if she did look a little different, Mark wouldn't have noticed. At this point, she looked just as sexy in one of his tee-shirts and shorts as she did in a slinky cocktail dress.

Lexie looked between him and the mirror again, flashing an unconvinced smile. Then, with a much more unsure expression, she pulled her pajama bottoms tight against her behind. With a gasp, she turned to Mark again, her eyes wide and face pale with horror.

"Mark!" she cried. "My ass really _is_ humongous!"

"Lexie," he answered with a half-chuckle, "you're making it look like that. Of course it's gonna look big if you do that with your pants."

She ignored his logic and began frantically surveying herself once again. Her final verdict was not good. "I'm a house," she finally said, leaning against the counter beside him, pouting.

"You're not a house," Mark assured her, touching her shoulder, holding back a sigh. It had been a while since he dealt with The Question. It had happened with Addison once, right before she peed on that stick (Mark panicked for a moment before he realized that no, that wasn't possible here). The pattern was exactly the same. "You're perfectly fine. Trust me."

She ignored him again, looking at him like she wanted to believe him but couldn't, before she left the bathroom without a word. She purposefully turned her head to avoid looking at any mirrors on the way out.

Mark let that pent-up sigh go and unceremoniously dropped his razor. She was easygoing, she would come around. It was PMS, probably, a bad mood that would pass. She'd be back to normal very soon. If this was the worst they would have to endure, they were in for an easy ride.

But that night, in bed, Lexie refused to be on top; she claimed that she felt huge and disgusting. So, even though Mark was tired from a longer-than-hell day, they switched positions. After all, sex where he had to do all the work was better than no sex at all.

It was then that he knew he was in for it.

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The next day, Lexie came home with a large Barnes & Noble bag in hand. As she approached Mark, he turned down the volume on _SportsCenter_ and smiled at her. Then, he pointed at the package she was carrying.

"More sophisticated medical texts for you to memorize?" he teased, smile transforming into a mischievous smirk. Lexie laughed sarcastically and rolled her eyes.

"No, actually," she replied, dumping the bag's contents next to him on the sofa. About four or five books tumbled out and onto the cushion, and Mark caught a glimpse of a few of their titles before Lexie could explain. _Eat This, Not That. Weight Loss That Lasts. Start Living, Start Losing_.

"Diet books?" he asked, quirking and eyebrow and flipping the pages of one of the soft-cover selections. Lexie nodded proudly and determinedly, trying very hard to ignore the open bag of chips on the table before him.

"Yes. And starting now," she declared, arms akimbo, voice strong, "they are the Bible."

"You _bought_ these?" Lexie nodded again. Mark's eyebrow arched even higher. "If you really want to lose weight, Lex – which you really don't need to," he added quickly as her eyes began to show an expression of horror, "then just go running with me. You don't need these books," he reassured her.

Her face fell, then, to a deadpan. Her dark eyes bored into his, and Mark's blood ran cold. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and all that. Even though, Mark thought, she technically wasn't scorned; she was just angry. Whatever, it was still terrifying. But, Mark wasn't sure if she was angry at him for saying that or at herself for buying the books. She was either frustrated with him or with herself. The suspense was killing him. He waited for her to speak, not wanting to make the first move.

"They're the law, now," she said clearly before going to put them away. Mark turned the television's volume back up and stared, numbly, at the screen.

He was very scared, and he didn't know why he was scared.

About an hour later, she made him turn off ESPN – his source of distraction – and help her throw away every single piece of junk food in the hotel room.

"You're allowed to have them if you want," she told him gently after he pouted about throwing out an almost-full package of Oreos. "Just don't let me see them."

That didn't last long. Not a day and a half later, he left the package out. For his punishment, Lexie withheld sex for two nights. Mark learned his lesson after that one.

She meant business.

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Thanks in part to Mark's prodding, Lexie did try the running thing. Once. It didn't last long and didn't end very well.

Mark held her arm around his neck and walked her, basically dragged her, into the air-conditioned sanctuary of the Archfield suite. He guided her to the couch, and she collapsed. She was red-faced from exertion, breathing heavily, legs screaming. Mark, on the other hand, had barely broken a sweat. "Alright, trooper," he said, kissing her sweaty forehead, "I'll get you some water. You look like hell." He laughed, and quickly made sure that she was laughing too. She was, kind of; a vague smile.

"How far was that?" she asked, spitting the words out, forcing her lungs to work. "How far did we go?"

Mark pulled his hand out of the mini-fridge, holding a bottle of water. He glanced at her uneasily, biting his bottom lip. "Two miles," he replied reluctantly, tossing her the drink. She gaped at him, and the bottle fell into her lap. Shit, he thought when he saw her incredulous expression. He should have lied. Five, maybe, would have made for a better story.

"That's _it_?" she whined, sinking back farther into the cushions.

"Well, yeah," Mark replied cautiously, trying to make it look like he wasn't being cautious. "You can't expect to run a marathon in a day." Lexie sighed and took a long drink from the water bottle. "Did you eat anything before we went?" he asked.

"No."

"There's your problem, then," he told her, leaning against the wall. "You've gotta load up on carbs. Energy, see. That's why I had to pull you through the hallway." This time, she didn't laugh. She just drew her legs up onto the sofa, wincing, and melted onto her side.

"Carbs are the enemy," she muttered barely above her breath. Mark just managed to hear it. He was frozen in place, staring at her blankly, for a few good seconds.

It was a _war_ now?

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There was one Saturday afternoon, about two weeks into Lexie's dieting attempt, when they ate lunch together in the hotel room. Mark's eyes were glued to the television, a baseball game; he was clutching a cheeseburger from Joe's (they had reached an agreement in which Mark was allowed to eat the less-than-healthy food in front of Lexie, as long as he did not let her have any or taunt her with it).

He opened his mouth to take another bite, and as soon as his teeth sank into it, a prickly sensation that he was being watched came over him, and he knew that it was caused by Lexie staring longingly at his burger. Suddenly edgy, he chewed and swallowed a bit too quickly. Some of it caught in his throat and he coughed a bit before he had to swallow again to get it down.

He pulled his mouth to the side, considering, before stammering an offer. "Want a bite?" He then cringed, realizing that he had violated the pact.

Lexie didn't mind much this time, though. She tore her eyes from the delicious meaty goodness that she missed very much and mustered up the strength to shake her head in decline. Then, she looked, unimpressed, at the granola bar in her hand – her lunch – and fingered its metallic wrapper.

Her stomach growled. She tore the wrapper open and devoured the bar in three bites flat. Mark watched as she suddenly looked very confused, as if she was wondering where the hell it went. "What's the point?" she half-sighed, half-growled, tossing the empty wrapper over her shoulder and folding her arms across her chest.

Finishing the cheeseburger made Mark feel terrible, but he did it all the same.

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A week and a half later, Mark was sure that he was going to go crazy. Lexie was frustrated with herself, claiming that her efforts "weren't working." She was angry and disgruntled with her everyday lunch of a salad and everyday dinner of grilled chicken. She just wasn't happy. She wasn't the Lexie that Mark knew. And that made him miserable, too.

He had to find some way to stop her, to stop the foolishness. He needed to bring back the old Lexie, the one whom he had changed his life for. He wanted the real Lexie to come back.

And, it just happened that he knew exactly how to accomplish this. He knew the secret weapon. It merely involved a little bit of rule-breaking.

One evening, leaving alone after work, he stopped at the gas station and made the purchase that would make all the difference.

When she got back to the hotel room a bit later on, he was already home, parked in front of the television. "Hey," she called, stepping out of the doorway, tossing her bag onto the floor, and slipping her shoes off.

"Hi," he answered, standing and turning, wearing a devious grin. Lexie raised her eyebrows at him, wondering just what he was up to and knowing that it had to be no good.

Then, she saw it. She saw the small pint-carton he was holding in one hand and the spoon he had brandished in the other.

Ben & Jerry's Dublin Mudslide ice cream.

She began to drool.

His grin widened when he noticed her eyes glaze over as she stared at the ice cream. The plan was working. He started a slow approach to her, playing innocent and nonchalant. He dug the spoon into the ice cream and pried out a large mound of the good stuff, licking his lips before shoving it in his mouth. He closed his eyes and moaned exaggeratedly. He was about a foot away from her, now. Her eyes were wide, entire body tight with restraint.

"I _love_ this stuff," he stated, swallowing and licking his lips again. "It's just so damn good." She was watching his every move, ready to bolt at any moment. He filled up his spoon again and held it right in front of her face. "Want a spoonful?" he asked, smiling.

She opened her mouth, but no protest came out naturally. She had to force it. "No," she whimpered in a pained voice, turning her head to the side.

"Aw, come on," he goaded, waggling his eyebrows. "You know you want some."

"Mark," she complained weakly, looking at him pathetically. Her resolve was melting rapidly, and she hated that she didn't have more control. But that ice cream was just too good! "Stop it!"

"Lexie," Mark said. "Eat the goddamn ice cream." Lexie gave the spoon a tentative look, indecisive. She knew she would hate herself right after she swallowed the ice cream. "We'll burn off the calories later," he promised, a lecherous smirk infiltrating his face.

Lexie broke, then. She allowed him to place the spoon in her mouth, and she shuddered in ecstasy as the ice cream made contact with her tongue. He smiled in satisfaction. Mission accomplished.

She took the spoon and carton from him and dug out another spoonful. Then another, and another, and then another. Mark watched her, grinning, eyes crinkling. She spoke, mouth full.

"I hate you so much."

But while she said it she was smiling; it reached her eyes. She was happy.

"You love me."

And so was he.


End file.
